Decode
by Viridi Invidia
Summary: "I'm not an augury. You can't figure out how I tick by cutting me open." Octavian had always hated her. Marysa never wanted anything to do with him. After all, he's so spiteful and she's so stubborn; they could never be close. Octavian/OC.
1. Prologue

Octavian sat down at the altar in the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus with a thick book  
in his hands. He looked up at the statue of Jupiter, and felt just the tiniest shiver go up his spine. The god, not the statue, seemed to be in a state of anger. The augur could tell by how stormy the skies outside were.

It was around 4:30 on a chilly October morning; the other legionnaires in Camp Jupiter wouldn't be awake for another two hours. This gave the augur plenty of time to catch up on his reading. Octavian opened the thick book and began to read. It was a good book, in the augur's opinion. It was about a boy who finds out he's a wizard, of all things. He goes to a school of magic and has to fight for his life against an evil wizard. In the installment of the series that Octavian was reading, the boy is fourteen years old and in a wizard tournament against a three of his fellow wizards.

The augur really enjoyed that book. In fact, he was so into it, when Reyna appeared by his side and called his name, he didn't even look up.

"Octavian." she said. He didn't respond. She sighed. "_Octavian._" the praetor spoke more firmly. This time he looked up.

"Reyna," Octavian spoke in pleasant tones, marking his page by dog-earing the corner and setting the book down. "What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same." she responded. "Why have you come up here?" the augur gestured to the book on the ground next to him.

"Peace, quiet, a good book."

"Ah," she said. "But couldn't you just read in your quarters?" the augur shook his head. He then smiled and chuckled lightly.

"I would, but the roof is leaking again. I might need that fixed. You should get someone on that. So, as I've stated previously, what brings you here?" Octavian queried.

At this, the praetor's face seemed composed, but her dark eyes told a different story. They were frightened and panicked, like a mouse cornered by a cat. As hard as she tried to show decorum, it was a futile effort. The augur could see past the veil of false composure. Reyna shuddered, so small and minuscule, that if you hadn't looked close enough you wouldn't have seen it. But Octavian was very good at reading people and their body language.

Right now, from what he could tell, the praetor was worried. She took a deep, silent breath. Octavian watched as she shuddered again. Obviously, something was bothering her. It took a lot to rattle the praetor. Reyna moved her lips without making a sound; she was trying to form the words to say. When she found the words to say, she spoke them.

"Jason. He's gone."


	2. Dreamers & Schemers

**A/N: 'Lo there! This is the first chapter of my story**_** Decode**_**. Each of the titles for the chapters (sans Prologue) will be named after a song that deems itself appropriate for a name. This one is called Dreamers & Schemers. The song is by Jade Monkey. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All of this, with the exceptions of the original characters, belongs to Rick Riordan: God of Trolling.**

"First Cohort! Up and at 'em!" Centurion Chekov called into the barrack. Marysa heard a chorus of groans and yawns, then the sound of people rolling, some literally, out of their bunk-beds and onto the floor. Marysa stayed in her bed, not daring to open her eyes. Gods, how she hated mornings, but she had to hurry. If she didn't then...

"Marysa!"

Then that would happen. Now it was her turn to groan as she heard Octavian getting closer.

"Marysa, get up! You don't want to be late for breakfast again, do you?" he said in pleasantly acid-filled tones. Octavian was good at masking the emotion in his voice, but so was she. She could tell when someone was upset or angry or really spiteful. And at the moment, the centurion's voice was pretty spiteful.

Why does he always sound so hateful? Marysa thought. It's not like I've ever done anything to him.

"I'll get up, Octavian. Just let me get ready." Marysa replied, scornfully. Octavian shrugged and walked away, whistling a mournful tune that was a cross between "Lacrimosa" and "Happy Birthday". She watched as his skinny frame sauntered over to another legionnaire and began nitpicking at their every flaw.

You know, sometimes Marysa wished she could've been assigned to the Second Cohort. That way she could escape Centurion Persnickety and his perfectionist ways. But she liked the First. She was part of the pride and joy of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata; that was enough to keep her going.

Marysa pulled on a purple Camp Jupiter t-shirt, black jeans, white Converse and a black North Face fleece. When she caught sight of reflection in a mirror, she sighed. Pulling a comb out of her pocket, she combed her messy, light brown curls out of her face. Satisfied with her handiwork, she made her way around the campers getting ready and out of the barrack.

The sunlight warmed Marysa. It was pretty cold outside, yet there were kids running around in shorts and t-shirts. She shuddered. Marysa hated the cold. There was a theory she made up. There were two types of people in the world: polar bears and chickens. The chickens, like Marysa, hated the cold. As for the polar bears, they could thrive in it. She knew a few polar bears. Speaking of polar bears, Nick was coming towards her.

Nick Devereaux was tall. He was only 15 years old and he was six foot five. Marysa always felt like an ant around him. She was only five foot three. He was dressed in shorts and a gray hoodie with black Nikes on his feet. His long, un-regulation, strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his pale blue eyes were lit with a mischievous fire, as always.

"Hey, Marysa," he said in his resonating, tenor voice. "You wanna head to breakfast?" she nodded.

On the way to the Mess Hall, Nick did most of the talking. He went on about the events of yesterday, like how their mutual friend, Loki, lost her gladius in a bet with a legionnaire from the Third Cohort, but won it back by setting a trap outside his barrack and taking it from his backpack. Nick always spoke animatedly and it was best Marysa just let him talk himself out. He had ADHD and could not focus one bit. Once, he started going on about Darth Maul from Star Wars but about ten minutes later, Nick was in a seriously one-sided conversation with Marysa about Anne Frank.

On the battlefield, things were a lot different. He was a fighting machine, one of the best in Camp Jupiter. When he first came to Camp from New Orleans and was claimed as a son of Venus, nobody took him seriously. He then showed everybody up when War Games came along by single-handedly taking the Fifth and Fourth's flag. That made everyone quit calling him "pretty boy Nicky".

Romans were tough, but they were pretty bad at coming up with creative insults.

"Are you even listening?" Nick asked Marysa, who had zoned out, lost in her memories.

"No, sorry. Just lost in thought." she answered. Nick studied her with a thoughtful expression.

"You're awfully quiet this morning. Anything on your mind?" she shook her head.

"I'm 'awfully quiet' every morning. You know I'm not a morning person."

"Well, you're not late for breakfast, like most days. What got you out of bed so quickly?" Nick asked in worried tones. She rolled her eyes. He always noticed the little things, but he never saw the big picture.

"Nothing," she lied. "I just wanted to be on time for once." she thought of Octavian and how he had bothered her this morning. Geez, what was his problem? It's not like her punctuality was any of his business. But then again, it did reflect on his Cohort. If she was late, it would look like the whole Cohort was a mess. She glanced up to Nick, who was still staring at her worriedly. "I'm fine. Don't worry, Nick." he shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

By the time their conversation was over, Nick and Marysa had made it to the Mess. Kids of all ages, from ten to 18, were sitting at tables according to their cohort. The First and Second sat at the front, the Third and Fourth in the middle and, of course, the Fifth Cohort at the back. Marysa and Nick sat down at their usual table with one of the First's centurions, Sam Chekov.

Sam was a pleasant guy: calm and easy-going. That made him a great centurion as well as a healer. Being a son of Apollo, god of medicine, gave him extraordinary healing abilities. His mom, who he never mentioned, must have been beautiful because Sam was gorgeous. Hazel eyes and fiery red hair, he could give you one glance and you'd melt. He was muscular but kind of short for seventeen. He was also part Russian and could speak it. He called Nick _klubnika_ or strawberry, because of his hair. He called Marysa _milyi_ which meant cute. That always made her blush. He was like the big brother she never had. When she sat down at the table, Sam stood up and bowed, which made her face flush bright scarlet.

"Good morning, Miss Cunningham." he nodded to Nick. "Hey, pretty boy." Sam was the only one who could make fun of him like that. Nick grinned and punched him in the shoulder

"Hey, you little Russian ginger." Nick said teasingly. Romans were really awful at coming up with insults. Nick and Sam sat down at their table.

They went into a game of arm-wrestling, in which Sam beat Nick twenty-three times out of twenty-five. While they were doing that, Marysa ordered their food: a breakfast burrito for Nick, waffles for Sam and an omelet stuffed with ham and cheddar cheese for herself.

When the aurae delivered the food, Nick and Sam chowed down. Marysa took small bites; she didn't want to make herself sick. Speaking of sick, was Loki pretending again? Gods of Olympus, that'd be the third time that week. And it was only Wednesday. Marysa sat in silence, listening to Nick and Sam talk about weapons, the legions and praetors.

"I wonder where Jason is. Reyna's up at the praetor's table, but he's MIA." said Nick. Marysa looked over to the praetor's table, where Reyna, the legion's praetor, sat.

"Yeah, this isn't like him," Sam said knowingly, "He's usually on time." Marysa then drifted into a very vivid daydream of Jason on his way to breakfast, fighting through crowds of monsters and Titans. This made her remember back to last summer, when the Twelfth Legion stormed Mount Orthys, and Jason went into hand-to-hand combat with a Titan. Marysa couldn't imagine how terrifying that must have been.

"Marysa?" Sam said, snapping her out of her daydream "Earth to Marysa! Are you having another daydream?"

"Yeah," she said, then for some reason felt stupid when she answered truthfully.

"That's our little Marysa Cunningham: Quite the dreamer." Nick piped in. She smiled a meek smile.

Then, the whole Mess jumped when Reyna wolf-whistled. The whole room went completely silent. Standing up from her seat at the praetor's table, she cleared her throat.

"Romans, listen closely as I say this. What I have to say will affect us all." her voice boomed out over the Hall, echoing a bit. She took a deep breath.

"Our praetor Jason," she said as Sam took a big bite of his waffle. "is missing." At this the whole Mess Hall exploded into conversation. Sam choked on his waffle and Nick was pounding his back to get it out. Marysa dropped her fork. Reyna tried to speak again, but was overpowered by the shouts and side conversations. She glanced to Octavian, who stood up at his seat and yelled,

"Silence! Despite what many of you think, this is not a joke. Our praetor, Jason Grace, is truly missing. If anyone has any information of his whereabouts, please, let myself or Reyna know." After saying this, Octavian sat down and continued to eat his pancakes. Nobody in the Mess stood up, but the doors swung open to reveal someone who was backlight by sunlight.

Everyone turned and looked, probably hoping it was Jason. The person stepped into the room as the doors slammed shut. Everyone groaned when Loki stepped into the room. The legionnaires went back to their breakfast. She strode through the tables.

"Yeah, thanks for the warm welcome. Love you too!" a legionnaire from the Third, presumably the one that Loki had pranked yesterday, made a rude gesture with his hand. She grinned as she passed him by. "Thanks for that, sugar."

Sitting down at Marysa's table, she smiled at them all.

Loki was tall and broad shouldered. Her blond hair was short and straight. She had green eyes that were always glancing around the room, as if looking for a good way to prank someone with whatever she had. The Second Cohort legionnaire was a master at pranking. Her mom, LeAnn, had a thing for Norse mythology. When she and Mercury had a baby girl, LeAnn had insisted on naming her daughter Loki, after the Norse god of mischief. Sure enough, Loki lived up to her namesake. Pranking was her "favorite sport", as she put it.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. "I trust everyone slept well." Seeing their shocked faces, she looked around the room, as if looking for the reason for their expressions. "What's up?"

Marysa filled her in on Jason's disappearence while Nick ordered a donut and coffee for Loki. Once her coffee arrived, she took three huge gulps. She slammed it on the table; Marysa noticed it was empty.

"That was impressive." she said to nobody in particular. Nick laughed.

For some reason, Marysa looked over to the praetor's table, only to see Octavian eating his pancakes. He looked up. When he looked at her, his gray-blue eyes bored into her brown ones. She watched him as he smiled, and continued to eat his pancakes. Marysa shuddered very slightly. He looked at her almost as if he was scheming against her.

Don't be absurd, Marysa thought. He just looked at you. That's all there was to it.

Marysa decided it was nothing. Then, Nick tapped her shoulder.

"It's time for Latin. Are you ready?" she nodded.

"Yeah," she said. Marysa got up from her chair and followed Nick out of the Mess Hall.

**A/N: Every time you don't review, a tree falls in the forest with no one around to hear its cries of terror. So, please: Review.**


	3. Break

**A/N: **_**Salve! **_**So, here I present to you, the second chapter of **_**Decode**_**, which is entitled "Break" after a song by Three Days Grace, a Canadian rock band. Heh, I can totally see Frank listening to Life Starts Now and shooting an arrow at a teapot. That statement is quite depressing, to be honest; I take that back. **

**Also in this chapter, we get to see the story from Octavian's point of view. And we find out his last name.**

**Hey, you wanna hear a joke? Of course you do! "Every night before he goes to sleep, Chuck Norris checks under his bed for Betty White." Yeah, I don't get it either. But anyhow, here is Chapter **_**Duo. **_

"Are you as hungry as I am? Because I, for one, am very hungry." said Nick. Marysa shrugged.

"I'm pretty hungry, too." she responded.

Marysa and Nick had just finished their free time by playing UNO. She always won that game. Nick claimed it didn't take any skill to win, but she knew better. You had to play the cards right. At the moment, the two were walking to lunch from their barrack. When they crossed Via Principalis, Marysa heard someone calling her name. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"What's up?" Nick asked. Marysa turned and saw Loki running towards them.

"Marysa! Nick! Wait up!" she shouted. When she reached the two, she doubled over, taking several deep breaths. Standing straight up, she raised a finger and began to speak.

"Wait for Sam. He's just gotten out of the Senate meeting. He wants to tell you guys what's going to happen."

"Did you run all the way here from New Rome?" Marysa asked, extremely astounded. She nodded.

"Wait here?" Nick whined, "But I'm so hungry!" Loki smacked him in the shoulder.

"Would you rather hear the fate of Camp Jupiter, or would you like to eat lunch?" she said melodramatically. Marysa rolled her eyes. That was Loki for you: always emphasizing things to seem bigger than they actually were. Nick thought for a minute.

"I'd take the latter." Marysa laughed as Loki stared at him. Shaking her head, she chuckled.

"Men." Loki stated.

"Gods, I wonder if we're still gonna have War Games." Marysa said. She loved the War Games. Deathball was her favorite. It was nice for her because she was small enough to fit into cramped spaces, where she could ambush the opposing team. "You know, with all this panic about Jason's disappearance." Nick shrugged.

"We'll still have it. I doubt they'd cancel the War Games. I've been looking forward to deathball all week."

"So it _is_ deathball!" Marysa exclaimed, punching her fist in the air triumphantly. Nick nodded.

"Yeah, First and Second against all the rest." he said, waving his hand indifferently when he finished the sentence. They all knew who he meant by "all the rest".

"So we're on teams? Darn it, I wanted to shoot Octavian with a fire-ball." Marysa said. Loki nodded.

"Sounds like a good idea." she said, shrugging. Nick looked at them both liked they'd requested to lie to Aurum and Argentum.

"How can you say that?" he said. "Sure, he can be a jerk, but you should respect him; he's got a lot going on." the girls shook their heads. Loki opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Sam walking up to the three of them.

"Hi," he said, looking at Nick, Marysa and Loki. "Am I interrupting something?" they shook their heads.

"No, nothing important. So, how did the Senate meeting go?" Marysa asked. Sam frowned. The Senate meeting obviously didn't go that well; she could tell by the look on his face that there was some sort of discord that went on.

"Oh, you know, it was a typical Senate meeting. Well, I guess you don't know. Anyways, you might know the Fifth's centurions, Dakota and Gwen. They were furious with the fact that Jason was MIA, because that's where he was pretty much raised: In the Fifth. So, there were a lot of fights between senators. Most cared that Jason was missing. Reyna was pretty much how she always is: calm and rational. The only person who didn't seem to care was Centurion Akerley. Octavian, I mean. He just sat there."

"Hold up, Octavian's last name is Akerley?" Marysa asked. Everyone nodded.

"Yeah, you didn't know that?" Sam asked. Marysa shook her head.

"No, I didn't. I guess it didn't matter to me that much."

"Anyhow," Sam continued, "When Octavian did talk it was almost riddle-like. But I guess that's one of the downsides on being augur: your words are always shrouded in mystery."

Marysa glanced around, checking if anyone was eavesdropping. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Octavian standing there, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Marysa looked back to her friends, trying to tell them to stow it, but Octavian walked over to the four.

The augur wore a toga over a t-shirt and jeans that were far too big for him. He smiled a smile at Sam that reminded Marysa of how a shark might smile, right before it attacks.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you're uncomfortable with how the Senate meeting went, Centurion Chekov." he stated. Sam looked him right in the eye and said,

"That's not at all what I said, Octavian. And lay off the formalities. We're not at the Senate meeting anymore. Call me Sam." said Sam politely.

"That is what you were implying. I'd try to console you, but I see no need. If you do happen to have a problem, I'm sure Reyna would be open to help." the augur said, condescendingly. Marysa felt the tension in the air thicken. Sam looked like he wanted to punch Octavian right in the jaw. If you made Sam angry, you might as well start digging your own grave. Nick stood stock still, bracing himself for a fight. Loki had her hands curled up into fists.

"I wasn't implying anything. And I don't need consolation, thank you very much. Reyna doesn't have time for questions; she's got enough on her plate as it is." Sam had ditched the polite act and was speaking with complete malice in his voice. The augur's face fell. He opened his mouth to speak, but Marysa cut him off.

"Okay, that's enough!" she said. Everyone stood back a bit from her. She looked back and forth between the two centurions. "You guys are acting like children. Honestly, it's not a big deal if Sam was uncomfortable or not. And you don't have to listen in on other people's conversations, Akerley." Octavian winced slightly at his last name. Marysa felt triumphant, knowing she had finally gotten the better of the augur. He stared at her with intense, gray-blue eyes. Then, shaking his head, he stormed away.

"Wow," Loki said, impressed. "That was amazing. You totally ripped Octavian a new one."

"Yeah, I've never seen someone do that before." Nick agreed. Sam shook his head.

"You might want to watch it, _milyi_. This could have all sorts of repercussions. You just ticked off one of the most powerful people here at camp."

"I know. And it doesn't matter. What's the worst he could do?"

"All right," Vincent, the instructor, said to the group. "Let's split you up into partners. Avery and Dustin... Luna and Sam..." the man kept calling off names. It was 1:30 in the afternoon and time for legion training. The group was dressed in armor and holding wooden weapons; most were holding a gladius and all were holding a shield.

Vincent was leading the group with his wife, Odessa, in practice. He ceased to call names. Everyone else had their name called and were getting into pairs, except for Octavian and…

Marysa Cunningham stood next to the cooler of water, her brow furrowed and her hand on the hilt of a wooden dagger, an imitation of her _sica_. She glanced around the arena. Her eyes found him and she groaned. Octavian wanted to groan too. Why did he have to get paired up with the most insolent, stubborn girl in all of Camp Jupiter?

He looked over to Vincent, who gestured for him to join her with a smirk on his face. Begrudgingly, he walked over to Marysa and placed a hand on the hilt of the wooden gladius at his side.

"Are you ready to get started?" he said. She nodded. Unsheathing her dagger, she braced herself in a fighting stance. Her small and thin frame seemed unmoving. Octavian copied her stance and pulled out the wooden sword. She charged at him, moving fast despite all the armor she was wearing. Dodging her, the augur held up his shield and turned to where she stood.

Marysa charged again. Octavian stood his ground and bashed her in the head with his shield. She fell to the ground. He raised his sword above his head and poked Marysa in her side, where it would surely be wounded had he been using a real sword. He smirked.

"Payback." he muttered. She frowned.

"Rematch." she stated. He obliged, mentally noting that this was the first time she had spoken to him after telling him off earlier that day. They resumed their original fighting stances.

This time, Octavian ran at her first. Marysa raised her shield and slammed it into his stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs and the sword out of his hands. Falling to the ground, he watched as she leaped to his side, preventing him from reaching his gladius. She held her _sica_ under his throat, her face inches from his.

She was breathing hard. Octavian sucked in a breath as her brown eyes met his blue ones. He realized how close they were to each other. She must have noticed this too, because she took her dagger away from its position at his jugular. She stood up and offered her hand out to help him up. She pulled him up. Marysa was a lot stronger than she looked.

"Your fighting skills are phenomenal," Octavian remarked. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" she smiled. The augur almost smiled too; she had an infectious smile. Wait, what?

"It's simple: Lots of practice and paying attention during training." he nodded.

An infectious smile? Gods, first she had gotten under his skin, defeating him at his own game, and now she was almost making him smile? Maybe she was using some sort of spell. No, that was ridiculous. She was a second-generation legacy of Mercury: She had no special abilities whatsoever. This was getting absolutely out of hand.

Then again, she was rather pretty. Even though she had a slightly plain face, her bright eyes and full lips made up for that. As he studied her face, the smile dropped from it and was replaced by a furrowed brow.

"What are you looking at?" she asked warily, her grip on the wooden dagger tightening, as if she would need to defend herself. Octavian shook his head.

"Nothing. I was merely thinking."

"While staring at my face?" she demanded. Octavian felt his cheeks grow hot. Once again, she was making him furious. He could not believe it. They had never talked before today, with the exception of him urging her out of bed once in a great while.

"Are you always this insufferable?" he asked, putting as much malice in his voice as he possibly could. Marysa rolled her eyes. That infuriated the augur even more. How could she be so irritating? He was her superior; he should be respected by her, instead of her showing such disrespect towards him.

"Not usually. Try me on any day that doesn't end in y." said Marysa with a smirk forming on her lips. Octavian was contemplating if he should knock her down again; he decided against it. It would look bad if he attacked one of his fellow legionnaires out of the blue. Taking a deep breath, he tried to think of a witty comeback. Before he could form it, she turned on her heel and, with the smirk still on her lips, walked away from the augur. He stood there, seething with anger and wondering why she bothered him so much.

**A/N: Every time you don't review, Chuck Norris has nightmares about Betty White. So, review.**


	4. Outta My Head

**A/N: After this hiatus, I feel like I should play Dodge-brick with Chuck Norris. In other words, I should be punished severely. BUT I PROMISE THAT THIS CHAPTER WILL TIE YOU OVER UNTIL CHAPTER FOUR. Which will be up soon, hopefully. **

**Anyhow, this chapter's name is "Outta My Head". The song that this chapter is christened after is by none other than the magnificent Chris Daughtry. Gosh, that man is perfection. Have you heard his cover of Lady GaGa's "Poker Face"? **

_**Perfectum.**_

**Anyhow, there is a certain paragraph in this chapter that fits so well with this song. You should put the song on repeat, and then try to find the paragraph. Fifty points to your House if you find that paragraph (Le bad Harry Potter reference). **

**Here is Chapter 3!**

Cursing under his breath, Octavian slipped out of the armor. "Slipped" was not usually the word to use to explain getting out of armor, but when you'd been doing it as long as he had; it was as natural as breathing. He stowed it away in the First's section of the armory. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marysa doing the same.

She was a natural at getting out of armor as well. When she finished hanging it up, she glanced over to Octavian. She turned and strode out the door, her brown curls bouncing as she walked. The augur was almost tempted to follow her and apologize. After all, he didn't need enemies, if he was going to run for praetor. But, she had already found Nick, her best friend. After today, he wasn't sure Devereaux would take too kindly to his appearance.

"Don't think I don't see you watching her," said a very familiar voice to Octavian's left. He sighed lightly and turned to see Hayden Foster, his best friend of five years, leaning against a wall, his arms folded across his chest. His close-cropped dark-brown hair glinted in the low-light of the armory. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. All this time, I thought you weren't interested."

"Interested in what?"

"Women. You've never even looked at a girl the way you look at her." Octavian's face light up like a stop-light. "Then again, you'd be asexual rather than homosexual. I can see you slaughtering plush toys rather than entering a romantic relationship of any kind."

"My business with Marysa Cunningham is none of your concern." he stated simply. Hayden shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling. He cracked a wicked smile. The son of Mars peeled himself off the wall and stepped closer to Octavian.

"What about your thoughts of Marysa Cunningham? Are they not of my concern as well?" the augur was baffled.

"I don't think about her. And yes, my thoughts of her, if I had any, would most certainly not be of your concern."

"Come on, Tavy," Hayden taunted, using a mock pet-name he knew Octavian loathed. "You're telling me you haven't thought of little Miss Cunningham once or twice?"

Octavian let go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He had thought of her, actually, a little over once or twice. She was insufferable, but sharp as a blade and instinctive. She was insubordinate, but she didn't care what people thought of her. Marysa was hard to even be in the same room with, but she was difficult to ignore.

"I have thought of her. Don't give me that look; it's not that kind of thinking." Hayden had wiggled his eyebrows and nudged him in the ribs. "She is… admirable. But now is definitely not the time for a romantic relationship. What with the opportunity for rising up to praetor at hand, I'm not sure walking out with Cunningham would be the wisest choice."

"Whatever you say, Captain Clueless. You've let seventeen years pass without a kiss from a girl, save for your mother. And it's obvious you don't know how to act around a pretty girl or her friends." Octavian glared. Hayden ignored it. "Let me just tell you that you'd be Camp Jupiter's Idiot Boy if you didn't make a move on her. That's just my opinion. Not many guys notice her that way, so you'd have a clear shot."

"Thank you for your wonderful insight," Octavian said, his voice oozing with sarcasm. "However, I fear I've made her upset. She won't speak to me, and her friend Nick Devereaux will get in the way if I attempt to apologize." Hayden scoffed.

"You're Octavian Akerley: the Badass Augur of Camp Jupiter. You can do anything. What you're going to do, is figure out a time when she's alone and apologize to her. It's a perfect plan: simple and not over-thought." said Hayden, giving his best friend a slap on the back, who winced at the force of the blow. Sometimes, it felt like his best friend had forgotten he couldn't take his hard-hitting signs of fraternal affection.

"Thank you. You know I'm a bit awkward when it comes to women. Either that or I scare them off. So, this advice is very appreciated."

"No problem." he said. Octavian saw him pause and saw a crooked grin spread across his face. "Just when you find time to apologize, make sure it's not while she's in the bath-house. That could be awkward." Octavian cringed.

"Oh, gods, Hayden, don't even say things like that."

He was going to apologize to Marysa, and Octavian was nervous as can be. Of course, his inability to converse with girls his age was a speed-bump he would have to get over, but hopefully he would overcome that by making amends.

He had found a time when he could talk to Marysa alone: the time between her healing class and dinner, where she would meet her friends at the Mess Hall. As he walked across _via principalis_ to the barracks, he saw her head of messy ringlets bounce through the swarm of legionnaires. He quickened his pace. When he caught up to her, he reached out and tapped her small shoulder. She turned and looked up into his eyes with narrowed brown ones.

"Hello, Octavian. What do you need?" she asked coolly. The corners of his lips quirked up into a small smile.

"Hello, Marysa. I've come to say that I'm very sorry for my heinous behavior prior to this meeting. And I was hoping that you'd forgive me." he said, mentally noting that if she accepted, he'd have another supporter for praetorship.

Marysa stared at him. Octavian noticed her hands unclenching from fists at her sides, her shoulders loosening, and her face softening. She sighed and held out her hand.

"Apology accepted. Truce?" Octavian took the proffered hand and shook it, nodding. She let go of his hand. She started walking and gestured for the augur to accompany her. "So, what made you want to say you're sorry?" The augur ran a long hand through his blond hair.

"A talk with a friend made me rethink myself. I figured I should apologize, because, truth be told, enemies aren't beneficial to anyone." he said simply. Marysa nodded.

"That is true. I was going to apologize to you, actually. Having the augur of Camp Jupiter on your bad side isn't a good idea."

"Really, now?" Octavian queried. She nodded again. They had arrived at the Mess Hall. He opened the door, propping it wide so she could pass through. He gestured with his hand for her to enter. A small blush spread across her cheeks.

"Oh, well. Um, thank you." said Marysa, walking through the door. Octavian nodded slightly.

"You're welcome." he said, following after her, letting the door fall shut on a few legionnaires by accident. He walked into the Mess Hall, where they parted ways. She was headed to her usual table, whereas he was headed to the praetor table.

She turned and gave a small smile to the augur. He almost smiled back, until Nick Devereaux appeared at her side, shooting him a killing look. Octavian gripped the hilt of his _gladius_: a nonverbal threat to that _asinus_ that if he tried anything, it would end miserably. Nick sneered and steered Marysa away, who furrowed her brow and went with him.

Octavian released his hold on the sword, and began making his way to the praetor table. Reyna sat on the low couch across from his, leaving an empty spot next to hers, the spot where Jason usually sat. He sat on the chaise across the table. The praetor eyed him warily, and then turned back to her dinner.

"Has there been any news on the whereabouts of Praetor Grace?" asked the augur. Reyna shook her head.

"There has been no news on where Jason is. He's only been gone one day, so he couldn't have gone far." she said, not meeting his eyes. She quickly glanced up, as an _aurae_ came by with a plate of roast beef for Octavian. "Also, I need you to announce the War Games for tonight. Many of the legionnaires believe that they will not occur because of Jason's disappearance. However, you must assure them that they will go on. Don't forget to tell them it's deathball, and the appropriate gear is in the west side of the armory."

"Yes, Reyna. I know how this works." Octavian obliged, stood up, and cleared his throat.

**A/N: To be brutally honest, I'm not too fond of this chapter. DID YOU GUYS NOTICE THE ROMANTIC DEVELOPMENT? He finds her "admirable". Heh, Tavy. What a silly nickname.**

**What do you guys think of Hayden? Oh, and speaking of OCs, I noticed I haven't written Loki in one and a half chapters. And I know some of you like her a lot. **

**Remember, every time you don't review, I get hit in the head by a brick. Hard.**


	5. Mercenary

**A/N: If you want to hit me with a cement brick after this unproclaimed haitus, I will kneel and take it like a woman. School has started and lessons are a right foul pain; however, we had the past two days off due to unsubsantiated threats of violence and the possibilty of the Mayan Calender Hoax to be correct. So, essentially, we were released for nothing. Hoorah. **

**The title of this chapter is born from "Mercenary" by Panic! At the Disco. That song is on the Batman: Akrham City album, and it's a thumping good tune.**

**There is more of Hayden in this chapter, a little bit of Loki, Nick's an asshole, and a whole lot of pissed-off Marysa. I'm blaming Premenstrual Syndrome for this. Mother Nature, do your worst!**

"What in the name of Eternal Rome do you think you're doing?" Marysa hissed as Nick led her away from the augur. Nick didn't even bother to glance down at her as he steered her towards the cushions where Loki and Sam were seated.

"I'm saving you from being lectured to death by Centurion Akerley. You don't have to say it. You're welcome." he said into her ear. She wrenched herself away from his grip on her elbow. She glared up into his pale blue eyes.

"Are you still miffed about this morning?" she questioned, the tone in her voice irritated.

"Of course. Nobody talks to Sam like that: Not even Camp Jupiter's augur. It was amazing of you to snap at him like you did. He deserved it." Marysa felt her body heat up with anger.

"Okay, first off, Octavian apologized to me. He's actually a decent human being when you're on his good side! And second, what happened to the Nick Devereaux who said, and I quote, 'You should respect him. He has a lot going on'?" Nick's face flared red.

"That was before he treated Sam like trash. I'm sick and tired of his pompous attitude. He acts like he runs the place. He's not even a half-blood. Just a legacy." he spat. Marysa's face fell. Being a legacy of Mercury, she was used to a bit of ridicule over the fact that she wasn't half god, like most of the legionnaires. But when it came from Nick, her best friend, it stung a little.

"Just a legacy, huh? I'm glad you think so kindly of us." said Marysa, her voice low. Nick seemed to register what he had said. Before he could make amends, she had walked to Loki and sat down next to her. Loki eyed her carefully and shoveled a pile of chicken pot pie in her mouth.

"What's up?" she asked, her mouth full of food. "I heard about how you knocked down Octavian in legion training. Kudos, girl."

"Why do you guys keep congratulating me for being a jerk to Octavian?" she questioned. Sam and Loki looked at each other. Nick sat slumped on his cushion, his arms folded across his chest. He blew up a puff of air, moving his bangs out of his eyes.

"We know you don't like him, sestra. So when we heard that you took him down, we thought you would be grateful for a bit of praise." said Sam. Marysa sighed and ran a hand through her tangle of curls.

"I'll have you both know that he apologized to me! And if he says he's sorry, then I'll believe him." Nick scoffed. She scowled at him. She was ready to snap at him, but was interrupted by none other than Octavian, who stood up from his seat, his hands behind his back.

"Salve, Romans," he began, his voice low and smooth. The legionnaires went silent. Why hadn't Marysa noticed what a lovely voice he had? She paused then shook her head slightly, as if to get that thought out of her head. "To begin, we have had no word on the location of Praetor Grace. If anyone has any information, please either tell myself, or Reyna."

Octavian paused, and he scanned the group of legionnaires, possibly to see if anyone would speak. His eyes made their way to Marysa and her friends and then rested for a moment her. She stared back at his gray-blue gaze, and he looked away.

"Second, tonight's War Game is deathball, as many of you know." the augur continued. "The teams are First and Second against Third, Fourth and Fifth. The proper gear and equipment is on the west side of the armory. Please, remember, no intentional maiming or killing. Anyone who does so will have a severe punishment on their hands. The games will start in 45 minutes." he sat down.

The four of them sat in silence for a few moments. Loki sat up straight and set her plate on the table. When she cleared her throat dramatically, the other three looked up from their dinners. Her green eyes flickered between Nick and Marysa, who glanced at each other warily, then hastily looked away.

"Okay, the tension in here is thick enough to cut with a butter knife. What happened between you two? This morning you were all buddy-buddy like you always are, and right now you're avoiding each other like the two peasants during the Black Death."

Marysa fixed her gaze at her plate. She could feel her three friends looking at her. She glanced out of her peripherals and saw Nick turned her way. She gave an exasperated sigh.

"It's him. He made this crack about legacies and how they shouldn't have positions of power. You know, I've gotten little jabs over my heritage before, but they weren't from my best friend!" she shifted her body to face him. He sat still, his eyes steady. He opened his mouth to speak.

"You know it wasn't meant for you. Besides, it doesn't even apply to you, because you don't have a high seat of power, and you probably never will." Her cheeks lit up scarlet, and her eyebrows shot up into her bangs, a mixture of frustration and surprise.

"I could do whatever I damn want to! I could run for praetor and get elected if I wanted to. Don't you dare tell me I'll never have a high seat of power, because I could get one if I wanted to!" Marysa snapped, slumping down in her seat and crossing her arms. The trio of Nick, Sam, and Loki sat on, sharing incredulous looks. There was a palpable silence hanging above their table. It was broken, however, by the harsh ringing of a bell, the signal that it was time for the War Games.

*****

The strategy meeting could have gone better, in Marysa's opinion. Nobody was focused, and the ADHD didn't aid the problem. The fact that Octavian was casting frequent glances her way was distracting her terribly. He didn't seem to notice her furrowed brow and impatient expression, an indicator that he needed to focus on the game, and not on her. If he did notice, which was likely because nothing got past him, he kept on with his glances.

Why does he even need to look at me? I'm not growing an extra head, am I? She thought to herself. A voice spoke in the back of her mind, that sounded annoyingly enough like Loki.

It seems like he likes you, said the voice simply.

Marysa's mind stopped for a moment, and then it began to process what it had said. He didn't like her, that was ridiculous to think. And if he did, that wasn't important; she could ignore him all she wanted. What really mattered was wether or not she liked him.

She didn't like him, though, did she? Of course not. Her friends hated him. Well, save for Sam, who didn't really hate anybody. He was self-righteous and commanding, however. No matter how much he apologized, those traits of his would stay consistent. She didn't want to spend time with someone like that. She would tolerate him, but would not let him close.

"Milyi, come on. The game is about to start." said Sam's voice from her side. She turned left with him as they left the tent, stepping out onto the Field of Mars.

There were multiple small shacks littered across the field, some with ones and twos on them, others with threes, fours, and fives. They were safe-houses, where you could hide and be protected from the opposing cohorts. They had a password on the door, that only legionnaires from the shacks respective cohorts would know.

Piles of brush and trees were scattered between the huts, and there were hidden traps, ones that were known about but not seen. Deathball was a very fast-paced game. However, if you moved too fast, you would end up dangling by your ankle from a trap on a tree, or stuck in a seven-feet-deep hole.

There was also the acid and fire balls you'd worry about too, but you could heal a burn a lot faster than you could a broken ankle.

The game wasn't as frightening as it was when she first joined the legion. She recalled sprinting through the fields and piles of brush like a maniac at her first match of deathball, anxiously avoiding the soaring balls of acid and fire, shooting anyone she saw, whether they were on her team or not. She was an excited ten-year-old at the time. Perhaps a little too excited, because about ten minutes into the game, she fell straight down into a pit and fractured her wrist.

A while after the game, Sam had heard he cries for help and fished her out of the hole. He was her first friend in the legion, and introduced her to Nick, who took a fireball to the knee during the game, while they were in the infirmary.

"Marysa, can I talk to you about what happened earlier?" she heard Nick's voice say at her elbow. She didn't even bother to look at him, but simply checked how much ammunition she had in her gun: Quite a lot. Enough to get her through the game. Enough to shoot Nick in the foot, if she wanted to.

"What is there to talk about?" the tone in her voice was cool and clipped. She heard him growl slightly but wasn't intimidated, so she kept walking and and took a position behind a pile of brush. He crouched down next to her

"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, you know," she didn't say a word. He sighed. "Well, I guess it's easier for you to forgive Centurion Asshat than it is to forgive your best friend. Have fun during the game. I'll see you after," he stood up and went away.

Marysa heard that nagging voice that belonged to Loki in the back of her head.

You should've accepted his apology when you could've.

She furrowed her brow and told it to shut up out loud, earning a few droll stares from passing legionnaires. She smiled sheepishly at them. There was a bell-like sound that echoed throughout the Field of Mars three times, the signal that the game would commence shortly. She double-checked her ammunition. Then, a legionnaire dropped down to his knees next to her.

"Hey," he said casually, shadowing her by checking his own gun. He looked at her with dark brown eyes and a trickster smile. "You don't mind me sitting here with you, do you?" she shrugged, and he took it as a no.

Marysa vaguely recognized his face, but couldn't quite put her finger on where she had seen him before. His hair was hidden by the helmet placed on top of his head, but the clear characteristic of sarcasm was written on his face. There was something about the way he spoke that was familiar as well, the easy-going manner to it. He kind of reminded her of a less-serious Sam, in a sense. Maybe he was his cousin.

"Are you related to Sam?" she asked, then rethought what compelled her to ask. He looked at her quizzically, then shook his head.

"Centurion Chekov? Am I that good looking? Nah, I'm Hayden, Hayden Foster, Second Cohort," as soon as he spoke his name, it all clicked into place.

"Yeah, that's right. You're Octavian's friend, aren't you?"

"The one and only 'Octavian's friend,'" he said pleasantly. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

"That's rude," she said despite herself.

"Ah, but it's true. The truth hurts, doesn't it? Anyhow, I know who you are, Miss Marysa Cunningham. Tavy talks a bit about you," he said with a Cheshire Cat smile. She kept her face straight to the best of her ability.

"Does he, now? Does he criticize me, or something else?" questioned Marysa, her voice even. Hayden inclined his head back and forth, the grin still smeared across his face. "Something else." Not wanting to further discuss this, she smiled herself, swaying away from the topic of the augur's affections, "You call him Tavy?"

"I was not supposed to say that. That's payback for him revealing my big secret," he scrunched his eyebrows together. "Dear gods, don't let him kill me."

"What's your big secret?" A wicked grin formed on his face, and he shouted over the second-to-last bell, "I'm a huge Doctor Who fan."

He sprinted off into the piles of brush and between the shacks. Marysa sat confused as could be, wondering who and what in Olympus Doctor Who could be.

While she contemplated the mystery behind what Hayden had said and just Hayden Foster in general, the final bell rang. She jolted upright. Cocking her gun, she sprinted off into a flurry of fire and acid and shot at her opponents like a mad-woman.

**A/N: Hayden's "big secret" is based off of this post on one of my blogs on Tumblr. It's an ask blog for Octavian, and I haven't had the time to upload anything to it, so don't burn me at the stake, please. The URL is ask-the-augur dot tumblr dot com, and it's on my profile. The URL to the referenced post is ask-the-augur dot tumblr dot com forward-slash image/31996873831. You can figure it out. I think you're smart enough. **

**Tell me what you think of this chapter. Remember, every time you don't review, a piece of my soul dies. So, review, for the sake of my humanity.**

**Have a smashing Christmas and a fantastic New Year's! I suppose this is my present to you lot. **


	6. Come Right Out and Say It

AN: Well, on the bright side, it's almost summer! Do you know what that means?I'm gone from everyone I dislike at school!And I can update this more often. I think it was bad fortune to post a chapter on The-Day-We-All-Could-Have-Died-But-Didn't. Remind me not to do that again.

I do apologize for this horrendous hiatus; however, it was a time for growth, because I think my writing has improved greatly since we last saw my wonderful characters and the ones I do not own (Octavian, Reyna, whoever else you recognize from the series).

The title is a song by Relient K. It's more of just a title than an actual background song for this chapter. It's not necessary to have it playing. How many of you actually do the song thing, though? I'm curious.

Enjoy! I spent six months writing this chapter.

Things between Marysa and the augur were, at worst, awkward. Things between them were, at best, nonexistent. After Hayden's implied confession of Octavian's affections, she had steered clear of both of them for as long as she could. Avoiding the augur was easy enough; he seemed to be ignoring her too. His friend, however, was a completely different story.

Hayden would pop up next to her after legion training or Latin and attempt at striking up a conversation with her. Whenever that occurred, she would make some lame excuse as to why she couldn't. Time and time again he came back to talk. Time and time again she would scurry away. The game was getting exhausting, and Hayden was getting bothersome. Maybe talking to him wouldn't be so bad; she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

"Marysa," a sing-song voice rang out above the crowd on via principalis. She took a small breath, stopped, and turned to face her newfound interrogator. Hayden sauntered towards her, his hands leisurely buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"Hello, Hayden," she said in the politest tone she could manage.

"So about Octavian…"

"What about him?" she asked, wishing he would speak more quickly.

"Well, I'm going to reveal a secret of his that he'll kill me in my sleep if I do say it. But what's life without a little risk? So, Octavian…"

"Yes, what about him?"

"He…"

"Yes?"

"He…"

"Godsdammit, Hayden, I'm going to hurt you if you don't speed this up."

Hayden cracked a wicked grin, one she was accustomed to seeing. If he didn't just spit it out and give her the confirmation, she might actually throw him. This was why he could never hold down a girlfriend; he was so irritating that it would induce violence in Mother Theresa.

"Octavian is harboring a bit of a crush on you, Miss Cunningham."

He had finally said it, not implied it, but actually spoken the words. That was all the confirmation she needed.

"Okay, well, great talking to you, Hayden, but I'd better get going. Latin is starting soon," having said that, she turned in the general vicinity of her class. He caught her shoulder and turned her around.

"Wait, do you feel the same about him?" he asked, a true curiosity embedded in his voice. Now this time he was serious. She faced him.

"Why should I?"

"It's impolite to answer a question with a question. Now, answer the question, and actually answer it."

"No, you give me five good reasons why I should, and then maybe I'll answer you."

Hayden paused, obviously not prepared for this outcome. He cleared his throat and scratched his chin.

"For starters, you're short and he's tall. That's always a cute thing in a couple. He's really smart and has a high position in the legion. Oh, there's the first three right there. He… well, I can't think of any others right now. Could you find me later when I've thought about it more?" Marysa shook her head.

"You can give me two more decent reasons right now or I can head to my class, which I am three minutes late to, by the way and thank you."

"You're very welcome," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His face brightened and he raised his pointer finger. "Another one; your kids will be really adorable."

"That's it," she said in a strained voice. "We're done with this. Goodbye."

"Cunningham!" Hayden shouted as Marysa walked away, her footsteps surprisingly heavy for someone of her stature.

"I then proceeded to tell her about your amorous affections towards her," said the bane of Octavian's existence, a wooden sword balanced expertly in his hands. Hayden tossed it back and forth between his left and right hands. The augur went deadly still.

That little…

There was not a word in existence to describe how irritating Hayden Foster could be at times.

"Never once did I say I was attracted to her!"

"You implied it," his friend countered back.

"Just because someone insinuates something does not make it a legitimate statement!"

"You said this, and I quote, 'she is' and then you paused in that way that you think gives you dramatic effect but really makes you seem slow, 'admirable'," Hayden gripped the sword in his left hand and raised his three middle fingers on his right hand, "Read between the lines."

"All right, fine. I implied it. Note that I am humoring you. Let's pretend that I said I was attracted to her. What was her reaction?"

At that, Hayden tilted his head from side to side. That was a mannerism he was used to seeing from his best friend, especially when he was trying to find the right words to say that wouldn't provoke Octavian into hitting him.

"You're not performing brain surgery, Foster. Tell me; did she react negatively or positively?"

"Negatively, I guess."

"How so?"

"We'll, she didn't say she doesn't like you. She just sounded appalled by the idea you liked her." A crimson flush colored the augur's sickly face. He tried to suppress the feelings of frustration, irritation, and what felt uncomfortably like disappointment.

"Appalled?"

"Yeah."

"Why would she be appalled by the idea of me having affections towards her?" A grin spread across Hayden's face that Octavian wanted to smack off. He knew in which direction this conversation was heading.

"Well, you're too skinny for words, first off. If she gave you a hug, she'd get a paper cut. You're pretty sickly looking, and a bird like that could take her pick from more attractive men, like me."

"You can stop no-"

"And you're kind of a douche to most of the legionnaires. Not kind of, actually; you're really a douche. The douchiest douche I've ever had both the pleasure and displeasure of meeting."

"I'm not a dou-"

"And, my gods, let's talk about how out of proportion your feet are with your height. They're tiny! Marysa won't be taking you up any time soon because we all know what they say about guys with small-"

Hayden was abruptly cut off by a fist connecting to his face. He recoiled, a hand flying up to the injured area. Octavian had fulfilled his desire of wanting to smack that infuriating look of his friend's face.

"Hayden, you've been my best friend through trials and change," Octavian said in a low voice. Hayden met his eyes, which were, not surprisingly, calm and collected. He was a master of decorum most of the time. "But even I have a limit to how much I tolerate before I can't any longer. We will discuss Miss Cunningham later. I will see you again in a few hours, my friend."

He turned on his heel, leaving the training area and his best friend. Hayden set the sword he still held in his hand down on a wooden bench. He soon joined it, feeling oddly satisfied with himself. In the cases of rank and position, he was below Octavian. In one way, however, he was above most everyone in the legion. Only he could talk to the augur of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata and centurion to the First Cohort in that teasing and rude manner.

With that last thought, he raised his hand to his cheekbone and rubbed it tenderly.

_Well, I can talk like that for a while._

**Hayden is my baby. He's such a jerk; I love him. **

**Review, my darlings.**


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